Because Thorns Have Roses
by keepfabandgayon
Summary: The first rose came a few weeks after New Year’s Day. A thousand days later, the final rose arrived.
1. 2008

Disclaimer: Hetalia: Axis Powers and all related characters and names do not belong to me. I make no profit off of this fanfiction, etc.

This fic was written for Slashy_Lady on LiveJournal. It is part of the USxUK comm's Secret Santa 2009.

--

1/24/08

The first rose came a few weeks after New Year's Day. England had been going over his list of New Year's Resolutions in his head (take a vacation, kill the frog, fix that guitar, be nicer to Alfred…) when an obviously confused delivery woman rang his doorbell and handed him a single rose.

He expected it to be a joke from France; after all, it was a _rose_. But it seemed to pass the inspection of his front door (which had been enchanted to not let anything French pass through) and he assumed it might actually be a meaningful gift.

He decided to keep it; he would probably find out who sent it to him soon enough.

Another rose came the next day. No note, no address, just a rose handed to him by a delivery person. Same as the day before. England added the rose to the vase that the other one was residing in.

A rose came every day after that, always around four in the afternoon. No matter where he was, the rose always made its way to him. Meetings were interrupted, calming walks through the streets were made very un-calming... Eventually it became commonplace for England's boss to make an extra break in whatever they were meeting for, just to avoid the interruption.

--

2/14/08

The first rose with a note came on Valentine's Day. England had been celebrating the same way he had celebrated the date since it became a popular holiday; drinking with whoever decided to come over. That year's visitor was Prussia. Their toasts started off with "To being single!" and eventually morphed into "To not causing that racket next door, WILL YOU RABBITS KINDLY KEEP THE MOANING TO A MINIMUM, damn it your brother is rude..." the more they drank.

The doorbell interrupted the "festivities". Prussia answered and, swaying slightly on his way back to the kitchen, proposed a toast "To whichever idiot is spending good money on flowers for you every day, and may you eventually find out who the fuck it is so the rest of us can get on with our lives and you can get laid."

He tossed the flower across the table. England ignored it, not particularly caring that he was getting a Valentine's Day gift. The note went unopened until the next morning, when he woke up with his head on the table, and saw the rose lying where it had been since the night before. He tore open the card to distract himself from his headache.

_I wanted to say Happy Valentine's Day to you, since apparently no one else does. _

It was short, but it was distracting enough. England re-read it a couple times, the words not fully registering through the haze of his hangover. "…I need some tea."

--

5/3/08

_It's been 100 days since I sent the first rose. This is going to feel a lot longer than I thought. Even though I am a nation, and my life is measured in decades rather than years, a hundred days is still a long time. Maybe it's just because I'm so looking forward to the end of the rose-sending (yes, there's a definite end) that it feels like it's taking forever. _

_Something exciting needs to happen. Maybe exciting isn't the right word, but, something that doesn't bore me out of my mind. I have significantly less to do than usual. Maybe I should read something. I haven't read for my own enjoyment in a while. I've got some books lying around here somewhere._

England tried to force the smile down. "Has it really been a hundred days?" It had seemed so much shorter than that, to him. Having a daily occurrence to look forward to made time seem to pass by more quickly. "Since you're going to be reading," he spoke quietly, "might I recommend a history book or two?"

5/4/08

_Ancient history is fascinating. Did you know that Greece's mom invented democracy?_

--

8/11/08

_Day 200. _

_I wonder what you're doing with all the roses. Do you throw them away when they turn brown? Do you use them as compost for your garden? Do you do something girly like pressing them, or putting the petals in little fabric bags to use as air fresheners, or weave them into necklaces…? You do embroidery, so I wouldn't be surprised. I probably should've thought about that before. What would I do with 200 roses? _

_By the way, nice pants at Japan's talent show. I didn't know you played guitar! Or that you could sing so well. I feel inadequate…That's a first._

"Pants… Oh, damn. How drunk was I?" England had meant to whisper the question, but it came out louder than he expected.

Japan overheard him and read the letter over England's shoulder. "…Those pants were interesting, England-san. I didn't know you still had them."

"Please, do me a favor, Japan."

"What favor?"

"Never, ever talk about those pants again."

"Ah… alright."

--

10/19/08

_300 roses. This is madness. _

_I won't be able to send letters for the next few days. I'll be really busy getting ready for the All Nations Meeting on Friday. You probably will, too, so I guess you wouldn't want to be distracted. You're presenting, aren't you? I feel bad for you, I hate presenting. _

_See you there!_

--

10/24/08

At the Fall '08 All Nations Meeting, all of the nations that knew England personally took a minute or two to ask him if he figured out who was sending his the roses. Eventually England found out that Prussia had told them all about the one that had come on Valentine's Day, and Sealand had decided to see if more roses were being sent. England told everyone that he had no idea who it was, which was the truth.

When one of the members of security walked in on a discussion on the environment, everyone went silent (which was a great feat in itself, considering the arguing that had been going on just seconds before). All of the attending nations turned towards England as the rose was brought to him. He thanked the guard and, trying to hide his red face, put the rose on top of his briefcase, planning to read the attached letter later.

That plan backfired. America, who was seated next to England as always, saw the card and, in his usual too-loud voice, requested, "Hey, since we're taking a break, read the card out loud!"

England turned to America, intending to call him an idiot as always, but was cut short by sounds of agreement from the other nations. He attempted to stubbornly refuse, but was overruled when China called a vote and nearly every nation said he should read it.

"It will at least bring some excitement to these meetings," France explained.

England gave in and grabbed the rose, ignoring the thorn that dug itself into his thumb. He ripped the tiny envelope open and nearly tore the letter trying to get it out.

"If you're reading this, you're probably reading it out loud to the All Nations Meeting. I know someone will make you read it.

"You should see my calendar. It's a daily calendar, one of those rip-off-the-page-every-day ones, and it has all of the holidays from all over the world for each day. And if there's a holiday for a certain country, it has that country's flag next to it. I always hope that there's a holiday of yours every week, so that I can tell you 'Happy British Holiday!' since I guess not a lot of people say that to you. I feel bad for you every time someone tells me that not a lot of people talk to you outside of meetings anymore. I kind of get it though; you can be a real asshole sometimes.

"Anyways, now I have to embarrass you in front of a couple hundred nations. I think you've already figured out what I'm going to say, since I've been sending you red roses daily for ten months now.

"I'm in love with you."

"Oh, that's so sweet!" Italy led the room in a standing ovation. "Ve~, I wish someone would do something romantic like that for me..." Germany choked.

America peeked over his shoulder. "There's a post-script, too." He grinned. "You have igot/i to read that."

"No. No way. Sit down, idiot."

America began to chant loudly. "Read it! Read it! Read it!" he stopped only when the noise level in the room became deafening.

"Fine! Fine. 'P.S. - I meant to say this before, but I forgot to. I'm a guy. And I wouldn't have told you that if I wasn't already sure you were gay. Happy UN Day!' Are you all happy now?"

--

12/24/08

_Merry Christmas, Arthur! I know it's not until tomorrow, but considering what I've been told about how you spend most gift-giving holidays, you probably won't be in any state to read tomorrow. Or think. _

_I just realized something. You might already know who I am. That would really not be good. It'd ruin everything. Don't tell me if you know who I am. I'll keep writing as if you don't. _

_I wish you'd send me a Christmas card every once in a while. Not that you send them to anyone else, but still… _

_You should see my Christmas tree. It's HUGE. _

The next morning, over two hundred nations, micro-nations, outlying territories, and religious cities acting as independent states all received one more Christmas card than they had the year before.


	2. 2009

1/2/09

_Happy New Year! Wish I could have been there at that drunken European party. I could've been your first kiss of the New Year! I wonder if you got kissed. I hope you did, even though it wasn't me. You need some love. You always act like there's a stick up your ass. _

_Sorry for not sending cards the last few days. I was over at my boss's house for Christmas, and since it's his last Christmas as my boss he really wanted me there and he made me stay until the 30__th__, even though I really didn't want to be there since I don't like him much, and when I got back home I had to take the tree down (I always get it down before the New Year) and then I really couldn't think of anything to write that wouldn't sound idiotic or give away who I am. I probably should've drawn a Christmas tree or something. Didn't think of that. _

_I have a huge fake tree that I use, it's about twice my height. I got it when I bought this house, because of the high ceilings. I always put it up on December first, and take it down before New Year's Day, because I'll never take it down otherwise and the tree gets all dusty. I'd much rather have a real tree, because I really like the smell of pine needles, but they'd get all in the carpet and I don't think I'd like the smell so much if I had to smell it all year. I guess it's kind of weird for me to care so much about cleanliness. But cleanliness in next to Britishness, and I always want to be next to you. _

…_That was the stupidest, most corny line ever. _

…_I'm leaving it there._

"Drunken European party? You're either purposefully telling me who you are, or you have no idea you're doing it." England pulled a box of thumbtacks off of his desk and turned to the world map behind him. He stuck pins through all of the European countries, and then every country whose personification was female or already in a relationship with another nation. "A guessing game, then. What have your other letters told me about you?"

--

2/14/09

_Happy Valentine's Day again!_

_It's been a year since that first letter. And there's a year and eight months more to come. I don't know if I have enough to say to fill that much. Well, I do, but most of it I have to say to your face. _

_I heard about your little "map project." Apparently you've gotten it down to, what was it, fifty countries? I'm being more careful, though. _

_I have a question for you. Just make an announcement with the answer before the next All Nations Meeting or something. What's your favorite song? _

Two weeks later, before the start of the once-per-season Meeting was called, England, to put it nicely, told everyone to shut up, and said, "To whoever is sending me those roses: My favorite song is 'Yesterday' by The Beatles." He sat down and ignored the stares_. I'm becoming sentimental, aren't I?_

--

2/27/09

_Four hundred. Not even halfway there. _

_I'm going to write a song for you. I call it "The Waiting Song". _

_I'm sending England roses_

_Every single day_

_Despite the fact that I'm a nation_

_And months pass like days_

_Waiting is a pain in the ass_

_I wish the roses were all sent_

_And I could tell you to your face_

_That I fucking love you_

--

3/25/09

_You know why I love spring? The flowers are just starting to bloom on the trees. Well, not everywhere, but where I'm writing from now, there's flowers on every tree in the city. I think this is my favorite house to live at in the spring. It's not too far from my capital, and the flowers there are just amazing, everyone thinks so. I always go to see my boss a lot in the spring. And especially now, since my new boss is awesome! _

_I remember you once told me your favorite season is spring, too. Maybe that made me a little biased. I see something beautiful in every season. I'm not as much of an idiot as I pretend to be, I really do care about preserving all this beauty. Everyone always gives me crap for my pollution and all, but while my last boss was still leading the country, I was right there with the protesters trying to get him to open his eyes and see what we're doing to the world. I wish China would do the same. Did you know some of his pollution is traveling over here? _

"I thought you said you were being more careful." England made a mental note to mark all of the countries that were causing only minimal amounts of pollution when he got home. "Whoever you are, you must be just as much of an idiot as you pretend to be."

_Also, today is Greece's birthday. I found out a few days ago from Japan. Greece is pretty lucky to have a birthday in the spring. _

The next part seemed to have been written later, as it was in a different color ink and looked hastily written.

_I just searched Wikipedia for Greece's birthday. This is interesting. I have to ask Greece more about this._

Another mental note: ask Greece about the history of his birthday.

--

Mid-May, 2009

England was conspicuously absent from the next All Nations Meeting. His seat at the head table, where he had sat since being selected for the Security Council at the formation of the UN, was vacant.

England was never absent from meetings.

Even if he was too sick to get out of bed the day of a meeting, which had happened all of twice in the entire history of the gatherings, he would always call someone or send out emails asking if the meeting could be rescheduled.

This particular meeting turned out very dull. No one was there to tell America exactly how stupid all of his ideas were, no one was there to get into a fistfight with both France and Spain (and win), no one was there to glare at anyone who dared to disagree with him -- well, maybe not that one.

Most of the other nations who were on the Security Council attempted to get through the meeting without drawing any attention to the fact that there were only fourteen nations at the head table.

Needless to say, it didn't work.

China turned to France and whispered, "Where's England, aru? He's not sick, is he?"

France passed the question on to America -- sort of.

"What did you write to Angleterre this time? I was looking forward to a fight."

America looked up from his doodles of hamburgers all over his notes. "Huh? I dunno what you're talking about!"

"In those little notes that you send with the roses."

"I don't send England roses!" America shouted, just loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear. Most responded with "Beg to differ" or some equivalent of it in other languages.

"I... ugh..." America let his head fall on the table with a loud thump. "Arthur doesn't know, does he?"

"I can assure you, England is just as oblivious to love as he was several centuries ago," Austria assured him from several seats to the left, "but last time anyone checked, you had not yet been impaled with a thumbtack on England's world map, so it could go either way."

Japan interjected, surprising more than a few nations: "I'm not so sure he hasn't figured it out. What exactly did you write?"

"Well..."

_You know, there are some times I wish I could be your colony again. You treated me pretty well, considering how the other empires treated their colonies. But I knew I was meant to do great things. And I loved you back then, too. Considering how you thought of a lot of your colonies as your family, it would have been pretty weird if I wanted to sleep with you while you still considered me your brother. _

All but one of the unmarked countries had once been a colony of England's -- but that wasn't a monumental thumbtack placing, since he hadn't expected it to be Mexico anyway. However, he did nearly empty out his box of thumbtacks marking most of the other countries. He had always thought of his colonies as family, that much was true -- but for the most part, he thought of them as his children. England had only ever called three colonies his brothers. That left Canada, Australia, and America. He hoped it was America. _Not because I want it to be him, of course! It's just that Canada would be… And Australia is… I just hope it's America._

--

6/7/09

_500 Days! Finally!_

_Summer's coming, summer's coming! Time to get out those swim trunks! Please tell me you don't swim in a Speedo like France. I got scarred for life when I saw him in that._

England wasn't surprised. The word "Speedo" was too generous; France's idea of a bathing suit only covered about half of what the average Speedo would.

_These letters are getting harder and harder to write. I really have to sit down for an hour or so to figure out what I'm going to write, and I don't really write much anymore._

_Random facts about myself:_

_-I'm listening to Queen right now._

"Good taste."

_-My current underwear has my flag on it._

"That's… good to know."

_-I have four electric guitars. One of them is in a glass case on my wall in one of my houses, because it's a pretty old one and I don't want to break it. It's worth tons of money, but I could never sell it._

"Four! And…valuable…fuck you…"

_-My oldest house is older than my current capital city._

"I'm older than my current religion. I'm not all that surprised."

--

9/11/09

_Sorry about the messy handwriting. I'm trying to write with my left hand, since my right hand always hurts like hell around this time of year. _

_My boss found out about the roses. It was only a matter of time, really. He actually said he thought it was pretty cool – that is, after he finished laughing. I probably would have laughed, too. His kids thought it was adorable, and his wife asked me about a million questions about what I'm going to do with the roses. She's fun to talk to. I sometimes sit for hours with her and talk about random stuff. I did that today. Mostly she asked about you, since she hasn't met you personally yet._

_Awww, the kids are being adorable right now. They want me to help them with their homework…Of course, it's my history._

--

9/15/09

_Day 600. This is never going to end, is it?_

--

11/27/09

_Sick. Ate too much. Don't wanna talk about it. I'll go vomit again now._

"…Well that could be any of them! Damn it."

--

12/24/09

_Day 700 is Christmas Eve? Awesome. Wasn't expecting that one. _

_Oh, England, oh, England, _

_How lovely are your eyebrows?_

_Or something like that._

_Baby, all I want for Christmas is you~_

--

12/25/09

_Here's your anonymous Christmas card! Buy yourself a present this year. Eat something expensive. Do something other than get drunk. Maybe I'll see you at the party this year. _

Less than an hour later, the last three guests arrived at England's Christmas Party.

America, Canada, and Australia were squeezed together on England's doorstep, all trying to contain their laughter. In unison, they shouted, "Merry Christmas, England!"

"Fuck you lot," was the only response.


	3. 2010

Head-canon note: Australia is cousin to the North American Bros.

--

12/31/09, 11:55 pm

The party had somehow managed to calm down long enough to move over to America's house for New Year's Eve, via a plane provided by the U.S. Air Force (_because he was America, dammit, and he could get a plane if he wanted to!_) Thousands of people crowded the streets of New York City, and this year, a huddled mess of Nations watched the New Year's Eve ball drop with them. America stood at the front of the crowd, conversing with everyone around him; the Americans seemed drawn to him.

England adjusted his earmuffs; they really couldn't keep any sound out at all. At least at home he could turn down the volume at five in the morning; here he was falling asleep where he stood, half-soaked by the rain and snow, being squished on all sides by people he either didn't know or didn't particularly want to spend New Year's Eve with (or both), and to top it all off, it was almost deafeningly loud.

He looked over at America, who had his arms around his brother and their cousin, singing along to the last musical guest of the night. The three had been almost inseparable the last week, even going so far as to wait outside the bathroom for one another. It was more than a little annoying. Then again, one of them had been sending him daily roses, so they were probably entitled to causing some annoyance. The last week's worth of roses had been delivered particularly creatively. One had been stuck in an empty bottle in the kitchen, one left on his seat on the plane, one tied to his suitcase, and so on.

The performance ended, and the countdown began.

As loud as the crowd was, America's voice seemed to rise above the rest, as if he had all of the voices of millions of Americans all shouting out through him. England turned away, and watched the New Year's Ball descend slowly. He counted out the last few seconds, "Five… four… three… two… one…"

…And was tackled by three men and a rose. "Happy New Year, England!"

"Get off of me!" He grabbed the rose out of the hand shoved in front of his face and pushed himself out of the group hug he was being subjected to. "It's 2010 in this time zone, and I'm going back to the hotel to get some sleep." England shoved his way through the crowd, pulling his hat down over his face. He was sure he was blushing; his face couldn't be that warm in this freezing weather otherwise, even in a crowd like this.

America watched England try to squeeze his way through the crowd. Canada poked at his arm and asked, "So this is the last year, eh?"

"Yeah."

"Have you figured out what you're going to do with the last rose?"

America knew precisely what he would do with the last rose. He had it all planned out, and even had a backup plan. But he wasn't about to spoil his "how we started dating" story. Besides, he still had a few problems to work out; namely, how sleeping flowers would react to time zone changes. "Not yet." He hated lying to his own brother, but that was a surprise he didn't want to spoil. Not yet.

America tuned out the cheers around him. He's been through enough New Year's Rockin' Eve Celebrations; it was easy enough my now.

_I'm going to tell him this year. No more chickening out. Heroes don't chicken out!_

--

2/14/10

_So how's this Valentine's Day for you? I think France is going to try to pay you a visit. Lock your doors._

_So I heard that you took all of the thumbtacks out of your map. I don't understand why. It's not like you figured out who I am. I can tell. You're not that good of an actor. Are you giving up on figuring it out? Not that I have a problem with it, it's great for me, but you're not the kind of person to give up unless there's no possible way to succeed. _

_Do you not want to know?_

That was just it. England didn't want to know who was sending him roses. He didn't know why he had ever started the damn elimination anyway. He was already down to three. That was too close. And, of course, of all people, _America_ had to be one of them.

America. Why America?

_Damn it_, England thought, _I want it to be America. I'm a terrible liar, and a terrible actor. It's not even a best out of three. If I was wrong, and it's someone else, someone I've already disregarded, I… I'd feel let down. Why __**America**__?_

--

4/3/10

_After day 700 being Christmas Eve, day 800 feels anticlimactic. April third? …I got nothing._

--

7/12/10

_OK, it's day 900. Getting close to the end. _

_Before, I thought that the end of the rose-sending couldn't get here fast enough. Now, I feel like it's going by so fast I can't even stop to think about my next letter to you. Can I get a pause button or something? Maybe I'm just getting old. _

"Feeling old comes more gradually than that."

"You would know. Hah!" Sealand poked England in the middle of his forehead, then ran off laughing.

"Hey! I'm not that old!" England tried to argue.

"Beg to differ!" Sealand waved back at him and then kept running.

--

9/1/10

_So how do you think the Potters will do at Hogwarts this year?_

_I've been reading your literature. Not just Harry Potter, I've been reading the old stuff too. Shakespeare is a funny man. No, really. He is. I can't believe I haven't read any of this before. I think I know where all of your imaginary friends come from._

_I did start with Potter, though. I have to admit it._

"Everyone starts with Potter."

--

10/19/10

England carried the candle up to his room in the dark. Of course there would be a thunderstorm today. Of course the power would get knocked out. And of course the anonymous sender would forget to send a rose today.

_He spoiled me, didn't he_. England set down the candle on his desk, the map behind him illuminated and looking almost eerie. He pulled out his box of thumbtacks and then stuck them right through each capital, one by one. He took great joy in stabbing through Paris, hoping the sentiment would reach France himself. He considered enchanting that particular tack to cause physical pain, then decided against it, remembering the last time he had tried to do magic during a thunderstorm.

Out of thumbtacks to mentally harm Nations with, England moved over to the window. He heard his wind chimes blowing in discord with the wind. He had never been one to care much about safety, and pushed the old window open. He stuck his head out, barely even noticing the cold October rain drenching his hair and making it stick oddly to his face. He was then met with another sound. He almost didn't recognize the tune of the song; it had been so long since he had heard it. Then a voice picked up:

_Happy birthday to you,_

_Happy birthday to you, _

_Happy birthday, dear Arthur,_

_From your hero to you._

"You idiot!" Arthur yelled down at the man below his window. Alfred looked up, grinning. He had a portable speaker next to him, protected by a plastic sheet, but he had let himself get soaking wet. The music coming through changed suddenly. Arthur dropped his head down onto his arms to hide his smile as Alfred belted out the lyrics, seemingly attempting to become a fifth Beatle.

"_You say it's your birthday! It's my birthday too, yeah! They say it's your birthday! We're gonna have a good time! I'm glad it's your birthday! Happy birthday to you!"_

"I'm not going to dance with you so don't even bother asking."

"That's no way to talk to the guy that just spent over two and a half years sending a thousand roses to you."

"Well, you forgot about today."

"No I didn't!" Alfred held up the last rose, still planted in a flowerpot. Arthur could only imagine what it had taken Alfred to get the flower across the ocean, alive. "I just wanted to give it to you in person, and my flight got delayed, so I had to fly myself over here--"

"Fly yourself?"

"I know how to fly a plane, remember?"

"You flew all the way over here and landed during a thunderstorm just to give me a damned rose?"

"First you get all pissy about not getting a rose, then you get all pissy that you're getting one. Anyways, it's no big deal; I fly through thunderstorms all the time."

"That's reassuring." Arthur pulled the windows shut and ran downstairs, taking the steps two or three at a time. He flung open the door, and Alfred handed him the sleeping rose and set down the speaker before shaking out his hair like a dog on the front porch. Arthur ignored the spray hitting him in the face and pulled Alfred into a hug, leaving the flowerpot on a conveniently placed table.

"I hoped it was you."

"Really?"

"Of course 'really,' idiot. Now come in and get changed before you get sick."

--

10/20/10

The next morning, Alfred awoke to the smell of tea, coffee, and something burning. That wasn't new. What was new was that when he got down to the kitchen to attempt to rescue some breakfast, he found Arthur staring wide-eyed at a small piece of paper. _Oh, he found it._

"You wrote this?" Arthur asked, in an uncharacteristically small voice.

"Nooooo, my boss wrote it."

"Say that again and I will forcibly remove you from my house."

"Sorry... did you like it?"

"Nooooo," Arthur mimicked Alfred, "My brain just broke for no reason."

"Good. It took me fucking _hours_ to get that note to stay inside the rose."

"Idiot."

"I'm starting to think you don't really mean that."

_Happy Birthday! Did you like your present? Maybe I need to say it again. I LOVE YOU. How about now? No? …Fuck you then. :D_

_I guess this was what Churchill meant by the "Special Relationship." If he could guess that all of our fights just meant we were totally in love with each other (I can't say it enough), and he hadn't even known us that well when he said it... I wonder what the other nations think. They knew I was sending the roses for a while…_

_I got the idea for sending you roses a month after my birthday in 2007 – you know, the one where you gave me the boxing glove that punched me in the face? Well, I was going to re-use the bag to move some stuff into my storage room, and I found your little note. I told Matt about it, and he said I should send you flowers for your birthday. Well, I didn't know when your birthday was, since you never told me, and Matt didn't know either, so I had to ask Francis, and then I had to tell him about the sending-you-flowers thing because he was groping me and he said I should send you roses and so then I came up with sending you a thousand roses and then personally giving you the last one on your birthday. And now here I am. _

_Here's something I've only done once before: I'm going to apologize. You read that right. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for royally fucking up your birthday in 1781. As much as I wanted to get away from you back then, I still loved you, and I'm so sorry that you had to lose me on that day. But you got me back on your birthday too, so I hope that makes amends enough. "Don't be sad because roses have thorns; be happy because thorns have roses." Right?_

_Love, Alfred_


End file.
